Revenge is a confession of pain
by 1879
Summary: Nathaniel wants to put the past behind him, but it catches up in an unexpected way.


Nathaniel pushed the wooden door that led to the Warden Commander's room, expecting it to be unlocked. It was, and so he found himself staring at a bare chested man sitting with his back to the entrance. The Commander still had part of his armour on, pants and belt hanging around his hips, while the remainder of the pieces had been discarded on the bed and the floor in random piles.

"One of these days, this carefree attitude will get you killed."

The red-haired man did not even care to move at the accusation so bluntly thrown at him.

"One of these days, you will learn to knock at the door before coming in."

Nathaniel barely avoided the small knife that landed straight in the door right next to his head. A fitting retort, if any. Aedan had turned around and was now looking the rogue, a scowl darkening his angular features. He always had a flair for the dramatic, something that would probably get him killed if the nonchalance did not.

"What do you want?" he finally mumbled, shoulders sagging as his hands clutched his knees and rumpled the leather fabric. He somehow knew why his newest recruit was here.

"To talk."

"Right." A sigh, and the Commander turned his back to him, picking up papers on the desk to appear busy.

This would not be easy. It had not been for months, and only Nathaniel's return to Amaranthine had somewhat lessened his grief and anger at what had befallen his family. Yet it was not enough and he did not want to go on like this, without taking action, whether it was a good or bad one. He was willing to try the former, even though countless hours had been spent imagining his arrows pierce that damn Cousland's heart over and over.

"I thought I would return this," he broke the awkward stillness of the room, closing the door first, then stepping forward to put the peace offering on the Commander's bed next to the pile of random items and clothing dispersed on it.

"Thanks," the Commander replied, not even bothering to take a look. "Is that all?"

A deep breath seemed more appropriate than a grunt. Nathaniel may be a patient man, but Aedan had a way of burning his fuse rather quickly.

"I had stolen one exactly like this from Fergus. Years ago."

Dropping this name seemed to grab Aedan's attention. So many ghosts inhabited this place, along with the ones each Warden seemed to carry within their hearts.

"And you expect me to... What exactly? Forgive _you_? I'm sure my brother would be thrilled that you decided to humbly offer excuses _now_, considering all the other things your—"

"Enough!" the rogue cut him off, raising his hand in a defensive gesture. "I was not _expecting_ anything from you regarding _that_. Merely for you to hear me out so we could just move on."

The Commander slowly stood up and finally threw a look at the gift, a small toy horse that seemed to stare him down from its odd vantage point amidst ruffled shoulder pads.

"Fine. Speak, Warden."

There was this smirk on his face now. By itself it was about enough to make Nathaniel step back. Coupled with the formal title, it just made him suddenly question why he was confronting his new commander instead of pining in silence for his long desired vengeance. He had rehashed one time too many what he had wanted to say, formal words, explanations, open and honest truths... All were swallowed hard in the face of Aedan Cousland.

The Hero of Ferelden. Never forget that.

"Look," Nathaniel raised both palms in an attempt to disperse any doubt about his sincerity. "I don't know what happened to the Couslands. But from what I hear, it was horrible. The entire war was. But what my father did shouldn't harm my entire family."

The Commander remained silent, waiting for the next part. The rogue had expected something after this declaration, an angry reply, a smartass comment, rejection and denial. Words like _No, but what your father did harmed _my _entire family_. Silence, he had not expected at all. So much for trying to not lose his footing amidst these tricky traps.

"I admit I wanted you dead. I have said it. Something in me still desires this. But... The Howes are pariahs now. Those of us who are left."

"The moment you became a Warden, your past was put behind you," Aedan declared, his expression inscrutable.

"I still wish... For Delilah, Thomas... I want to—"

The tall man slowly stepped forward, eyes even with Nathaniel's until he was well within his personal space.

"Where did you find that toy?" he simply asked.

"Abandoned house in the Blackmarsh. While everyone was looking somewhere else."

"Such a thoughtful gift. I wonder where you get these ideas." His tone was glacial. Perhaps it had not been the proper time to chat after all.

"Fine. Sorry about this. I will step out and we can just forget about this entire conversation."

Apparently the idea of forgetting involved some sort of violent shoving against doors for some, so Nathaniel embraced the movement and prepared himself for the blow that would surely follow. Instead, his back pushed against the sturdy planks, it was limpid eyes again that were staring at him, telling strange, unexpected stories.

"I will _not_... B-Betrayal. If you want to kill me, do it _now_, without the stupid lies and gifts, so I don't have to live through this ever again!"

Maker, the intensity and the depth of Aedan's loss. It was horrifying to stare at it from up close, the sadness changing the colour of his eyes to something grey and blurry. That man had killed his father, but his father had killed the Couslands and destroyed the Howes in a single blow. Nathaniel's love for his father was still there, but there was also the understanding of his death, of who killed him, and why, and why it had to be done. Could he use the same reasoning to murder this Cousland now? It would be so easy, the knife was right there, his hand free to grab it and strike a vicious blow.

He could tell Aedan was trying to live by the words he had said, that being a Warden, these stories and feelings now belonged to another time, another person, another world.

"I did not come here to kill you, Commander. If you lose your life, it will not be my doing," the rogue finally said, his voice more steady then he had anticipated. "From the looks of it, I bet it will be your own fault."

"You have some balls, I have to admit," he replied, relaxing his grip though he was not letting go. "Did you know Rendon hinted not so subtly that Delilah had a crush on me? That was the day..."

_Rendon._

Aedan had not said _your father _like some sort of reproach. Something was different but Nathaniel could not put his finger on what it was exactly.

"I was torn about that," the Commander shrugged.

Why was he telling him these things, now?

"My sister hated your guts with a passion. She never forgave you and Fergus for throwing a food fight on her birthday."

It felt so strange to speak of old times like this. As if...

"It was a glorious day. I knew Delilah would never even consider dating me. But I also knew if I accepted Rendon's offer to meet her again..." Aedan trailed off, fingers clutching Nathaniel's leather armour a little more than the moment before. The rogue felt like filling the silence where the commander had trailed off.

"We envied you. The way the Teyrn treated you. His clan. The way you were all so close and open with each other. He called you _pup_ and that word alone said how proud he was of you.  
I wonder... I loved my father and respected him, and still do despite his late choices. I don't want to excuse his actions, he had reasons to believe treason too. But... My father was cold, distant."

Where did this come from? Why the sudden confessions?

"I am sorry he took that away from you. Commander."

Nathaniel knew at that moment, the way he said his title, that he would never betray Aedan. He was a Warden now, and it was time to focus on making his grandfather proud, to restore the name of his family in the eyes of Ferelden, and it started with Aedan Cousland right here, right now, his Commander and the order he had sworn loyalty to.

"I always wonder. What could have been. What if..." Aedan seemed to be lost in thought for a moment before he focused again on Nathaniel. "I don't know if I will ever have the strength to forgive Rendon Howe. You... You, however, need to learn your manners if you do not want to earn my wrath."

The sudden change in tone caught Nathaniel off guard, and he visibly gulped despite his best intention.

"Ser?" Was it normal that the rogue now noticed tiny details that he had never noticed before, the spark of candlelight reflected off these gold earrings, how this man had not shaved in two, perhaps three days, how annoying that smirk was, and... freckles?

"So obviously polite now. I will accept this as your apology. For saying you wanted to kill me."

Aedan seemed to either have issues with emotional consistency, or he was being very, very devious. In either case it made Nathaniel squirm involuntarily, the awkwardness of it all making him want to look away. His eyes landed on the toy horse on the bed.

"If you don't want it, give it to Oghren. He'll be delighted," Nathaniel suggested, hoping this would be the cue to his release.

"That toy? Sure. Why not. Great idea."

"Commander."

"What?"

"May I leave, now?"

"Only if you tell me one more thing, since you are in a mood for confessions."

Maker, the strangeness of this moment. Why _this_, now? Aedan's face was a little too close to his and he could feel his breath on his neck, each one tickling sensations he would rather not acknowledge.

"Have you ever fantasized about Fergus or me?"

The blunt question had the same effect as a knife plunging into the chest, or so it felt. Nathaniel had been stabbed before, and it had always been something clean, slick, wicked with an intent behind it, the intent to utterly annihilate something. What did the Commander wish to destroy now?

"This is quite inappropriate," the rogue whispered.

"All this talking about our past rekindled some fond memories of mine. You started it, Nathaniel."

At the end of this sentence, there was his name, and it just sounded wrong, though the rogue had no chance to ponder on that when he was distracted by wet lips on the tip of his nose.

"I always imagined that part of you in the nape of my neck, and it rather pleased me back then."

Nathaniel squinted his eyes, overcome by shock. While he himself had no clue what he was doing, it seemed as if his body did. Once he became conscious of his self again, he was on top of his Commander, right on the messy bed. His left hand was gripping the man's stubbly chin, fingers on his lips to shut him up while the thumb was pushing in the soft spot that could hurt him seriously if he put his mind to it.

Aedan was calm, as if he were waiting for the answer to his question. Nathaniel shook his head, a vain attempt at denying the chaotic thoughts that assailed him.

"I have been with men before, if that's what you wanted to know."

"Hmmm," Aedan moaned, parting his lips to suck on the finger that was right there. Was this another trap he had gotten himself caught in? If there were any doubts, they were dissipated by the arm clutching his head, and that hand caressing his cheek.

"Never with a... rival, though."

"Hmmm."

The look Nathaniel received clearly said something along the lines of _Don't make me give you an order_. He guessed it was good timing to follow his Commander's lead, wherever it may go.


End file.
